Kiss Of Green
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: When Toki quits the band and tries to go back to Norway, Pickles is forced to go along with him and pull him back into the world of Dethklok. Their journey ends up leading them thru the countryside of Ireland. Pickles/Toki slash.
1. Chapter 1

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

****WARNINGS****

**Slash, drug/alcohol usage, bad language.  
****If you don't like it, then don't be stupid and read it.  
****God, I get tired of saying that. -_-**

****DISCLAIMER****

**Nope, don't own any characters from _Dethklok.  
_****If you don't know this, then that's just sad.**

_**Reviews are love.**_

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

"_Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin',  
That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking...  
...Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin."_

_~~Dropkick Murphys, The Rocky Road To Dublin  
_

**Chapter 1, Part 1  
**_**Good Morning**_

The stupid alarm clock was always the first thing that woke him up. As Pickles struggled to untangle himself from the mass of bed covers, he let out an annoyed curse. "Shut up!" he threw a pillow in no particular direction, praying that it broke the stupid clock. "Shut up, Gad! You stupid, crappy alarm!"

But the beeping didn't stop. He threw the covers off him and switched on the lamp, muttering am irritated, "Ah, fuck me, stupid, dildo alarm..."

Pickles slammed down a closed fist on the clock and it switched off. Once that was done, he closed his eyes and groaned. It was too damn early for all this. He had a pounding headache from his drinking binge the night before, and the yelling that was coming from downstairs didn't help him either. He got out of bed and slipped into his pants and his shirt, trying to ignore the hollering that were echoing up to his room from down below.

Swedish and Norwegian curses filled the air as he exited his room and walked down the hall; downstairs Toki and Skwisgaar would be fighting. They'd been fighting a lot lately, about the stupidest things. The real problem was always clear, though—Toki wanted some recognition as rhythm guitarist, and Skwisgaar was never willing to give up the spotlight. The two were constantly bickering, but as Pickles entered the kitchen he realized that something was wrong. Something was _very _wrong.

This fight wasn't like the ones before. Toki's eyes shined with a rage that none of them—not Nathan, not Murderface or even Skwisgaar—had ever seen. He was less than an inch from his band mate's face, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Fuck you! I hates you, you stupid-"

"Shuts up, idiot!" the Swede yelled back. "Go fucks yourself! You wills _never _haves a solo, Toki, because you don'ts deserve one!"

"Go die!"

"Why don't you just go kills yourskelfs? Maybe then the world would be betters off!"

Toki let out an angry growl and, in an act of pure hostility, took one of the vodka bottles that sat on the table, and threw it against the dining room wall, where it shattered into a million glistening pieces of glass. They continued yelling as Pickles went over and sat down next to Nathan and Murderface. He took the only remaining bottle of booze and drank from it deeply, trying to lessen his growing headache and drown out the voices of the fighting Scandinavians.

"What's it about this time?" he asked once he was done drinking.

Nathan was the one who answered. His eyes were fixated on Toki, clearly taken aback by his animalistic behavior. "He wanted a solo, but-"

"Skwisgaar wouldn't give him one, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah." there was a pause before, "you should take care of Toki. It's your turn."

Pickles sighed and drank down some more vodka. "Are you kiddin' me? I'm nat getting in the middle of those two; they'd rip me apart. What about Murderface?"

The drummer cast a glance in the bassist's direction and frowned. Murderface was laughing, urging, "Yeah! Toki, punch him in hish face!"

Pickles threw his fork at him and hissed, "Don't tell him to do 'dat, dildo!"

Murderface just continued laughing. Nathan glared over at Pickles and instructed, "Go fix it. _Now."_

"But I-"

"I had to do it last time."

"I know, but-"

"Do it or I'll kill you."

The drummer bit his lower lip and sighed. Taking one last sip from the bottle, he slowly went over and approached the two, saying, "Look, guys, stap yelling. It's givin' me a damn headache. Just make up like you always-"

But they both ignored him. Skwisgaar gave Toki a little push backwards and challenged, "You wants to hit me? Huh?" When Toki said nothing, only stood there trembling in anger, he laughed and pushed him a little more. "Go aheads, little Toki. Hits me. I _dare _you; see if I don'ts haves you out the band, sees if I don't haves you replaced!"

The Norwegian pushed him back. "Leaves me the fuck alone!"

"Buts you just wanteds to fight! So come on, fights me." the Swede approached him and hit him lightly on the cheek, almost scoldingly. "Hits me. Come ons, hits me if you gots the balls to dos it."

Still nothing. Pickles began to grow nervous as he glanced at the Norwegian. He was shaking from head to toe. His face was pale and tears were beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. Anyone who had ever seen Toki angry might think that he was an idiot, because when he was truly angry—about to absolutely destroy everything that he possibly could—he would cry. The drummer didn't know why, but it just made the guitarist look almost pitiful, especially as he stood there being pushed and tormented by the other musician.

_"Comes on, _Toki," Skwisgaar said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Pickles took a careful step back. Yes, everything was about to explode, totally explode. "Hits me. Come on!" suddenly his voice had gone from a careful, challenging hiss to a loud, cracking yell. "Dos it! Comes on, you fuckings, stupid piece of shi-"

Toki's fist collided with Skwisgaar's cheek. The Swede let out a pained cry and flew backwards into the table, right into Murderface's lap. The bassist was too busy laughing to do anything about it. He clapped and exclaimed, "Great job, Toki! You hit him, you really did! Right in hish shtupid face!"

"Fucks you! Screws you all off!" the Norwegian snapped, his chest heaving, his pale blue eyes wide and wild with anger. "I hates you all! You all just sits there and don'ts do anything when he fucks with me! That ams all you ever do and I'ms sick of it!"

"I was gonna do somethin'." Pickles dared to comment, taking a few more steps away from Toki. "I was gonna-"

"Buts you _didn't! _You didn'ts and nows it ams too late." he went over, grabbed the drummer's bottle of vodka, and thew it against the wall.

"Toki, what the fu-"

"Shuts up, alls of you!" Toki sobbed. "I'ms so sick of this! You always chooses Skwisgaar overs me!"

"No we don't." Nathan said.

"Yes," he insisted, shaking his head. "you dos. You all hates me, I knows it, so this is it; I'm leavings _Dethklok."_

Everyone's mouths dropped open and they all watched as Toki walked out the door. Once he had left, Pickles looked over to his broken vodka bottle and asked unbelievingly, "Did he just say 'dat he's _leavin'?"_

"Yeah, I think sho." Murderface answered, pushing Skwisgaar out his lap. The Swede let out a pained groan as his limp body hit the floor; he stirred, opened his eyes, and covered his face with his hands.

"Fucks...what ammnest goings on?"

"Toki," Nathan said. "he really said he's leaving?"

"He ain't never said that before." Pickles muttered with a quiet sadness. He couldn't believe it—for one of them to say that they were leaving the band was like a sin. They all exchanged glances and the drummer felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes met Nathan's.

"You know what you've got to do?" the singer asked.

"You're really gonna make me fix 'dis?"

He shrugged and said casually, "It's _your _turn."

"Yeah, yeah," Pickles said, walking out the dining room with his head hung low. "I know."

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 1, Part 2  
**_**Protector **_

They had always had a system: Nathan would take care of Toki and Skwisgaar's problems for one full, seven-day week, and Pickles would solve them the following week. Usually it was a pretty good, fair system, but as the drummer knocked on Toki's door, he felt as though it was the most unjust thing in the world. When nobody opened the door, he barged right in. The guitarist was throwing his clothes into his suitcase. He didn't even look up as Pickles came in, instead he asked, "Why ams you here, to talks me out of it? Because-"

"Nah, I just wanted to, y'know, get an idea of where you're planning on going." he said, going over and taking a seat on Toki's bed. The Norwegian gave him an odd look.

"Whats?"

"Where are you plannin' on going? Back to Norway, or-"

"Ja." he interrupted, reaching for his deddy bear. "Backs to Lillehammer."

"Ah." there was a moment of silence then the drummer admitted, "I don't think you should go. I-"

Before he could even put the thought into words, there was another knock at the door. "Comes in!" Toki called, gently placing his stuffed bear into his suitcase. Ofdensen entered, a concerned look on his face. In his right hand he held his cell phone.

"You texted me that-" he glanced at the phone, adjusted his glasses, and read:

_Please gets for me a plane ticket for backs to Norway.  
__~~Toki_

_P.S.  
__Since Skwisgaar ams a stupid, dumb, idiot-dildo, you should kicks him out of the band. Just telling you._

Once he was done reading, he glanced at Pickles and asked accusingly, "Can you explain this? Why would Toki need a plane ticket?"

"Because he thinks he's-"

"I'ms leaving."

Ofdensen arched a brow. "You are?"

In a moment the whole story of the fight began spilling from Toki's mouth. He even included the part where he punched Skwisgaar in the face, and finished with, "And I'ms just really sicks of it, sos I'm leavings for good. You gots my ticket?"

"I...yes." then he turned his attention to Pickles. "Would you mind talking with me privately for a moment?" They both retreated outside, left Toki to pack the rest of his things. Once they were alone, Ofdensen let out a long, exasperated sigh. "What is all of this about? Is what he said true?"

He nodded. "Yep, I saw it. Skwisgaar gat in his face and all that other shit. He was bein' a real bitch."

"Uh-huh, and now Toki is going back to Norway?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Ofdensen frowned. "Um-hmm. Very well, then. I assume that since you're up here and not Nathan, it is your turn to deal with it?" Pretty much everyone except Skwisgaar and Toki knew about the turn-system.

"Yeah," Pickles said gloomily. "it's my turn."

"Then you'll go with him to Norway?"

"Yeah, sure. I—wait, _what?" _the words sank in and he shook his head, resisted this horrible suggestion with every thing he had in him. "No way, dude. 'Dat's nat _my _job; send one of the Klakateers to do it, nat me!"

Ofdensen said curtly, "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Everywhere you go, people expect to see the Klokateers—they _expect _it. We want to keep this incident out of the media for as long as possible, and besides that, what will Toki do once he arrives in Norway? Do you really think that this trip will be as long-term as he believes it will be?"

Toki was a pretty impulsive person, always acting before he gave anything a moment's thought. Sometimes it did him good, but most of the time it just ended up making things worse. Besides that, the Norwegian had earnestly expressed his feelings of anxiety and bitterness towards his home outside of Lillehammer before, so odds were that he'd most likely end up wanting to come home as soon as he got there and had a chance to cool down.

The drummer ran a hand thru his hair thoughtfully and finally said, "Nah, I guess he'll wanna come home."

"How safe do you think he'll be on his own? Once he 'quits' the band, I no longer have the power to make the Klokateers follow him."

He mumbled, "He won't be safe, I guess."

Ofdensen nodded. "Yes, and that's why I would really appreciate it if you would go with him." he laid a hand on Pickles' shoulder and said calmly, "I'm asking you to look after him, because if something were to happen, then-"

"Then I don't know what I'd do..." his voice trailed off as he imagined the news, the headlines:

_World Famous Guitarist Toki Wartooth Dies..._

_Is Murdered..._

_...Freezes To Death In Snowstorm..._

Anything could happen out there in the stupid real world. Pickles glared down at the floor and said, his voice full of bitter resentment, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you." Ofdensen removed his hand from the drummer's shoulder and knocked on Toki's door. "Open up, please."

In a moment the guitarist had opened the door and was staring at them, a brow arched. In his right hand he carried his suitcase. "Ja, whats you want?"

"It appears as if Pickles has expressed interest in wanting to go with you to Norway." he explained it far too calmly and smartly, as if he were rambling off the sales from the first quarter. Toki seemed thoroughly—and pleasantly—surprised at the news. He gave the drummer a little smile.

"Reallys? He _wants _to gos with me?"

"Yeah." Pickles said, faking a grin. "I wanna go so damn bad, lemme tell you."

"Okays! This ams gonna be really fun!"

"Yeah." he sighed and rolled his eyes. "A real blast."

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 1, Part 3  
**_**Mistakes & Idiocy**_

As they entered the airport, Pickles had his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his black jacket; he was staring intently at the floor, praying that nobody would recognize him. To say that _Dethklok _fans were crazy would be an understatement, and so naturally the drummer was desperate to keep he and Toki's cover as they walked.

"Okay," he said, passing the guitarist his ticket. "here's your ticket. Don't lose it or else we can't go, gat it?"

He nodded and took it. "Ja, sures."

"What gate does it say we gatta go to?"

"Gates? I...umm..." Toki read his ticket, a confused look on his face. After a long pause he said, "Gates A."

"You sure?"

He gave Pickels a little half-nod and put the ticket in his pocket. "Ja. I cans _read, _you knows. I'ms not stupid."

"Yeah, I know."

They walked in silence and when they got on the plane, all Toki had with him was his deddy bear. He hugged it close to him as he and Pickles took their seats. "Pickle?" he asked, nudging the drummer a little.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm...maybes I ams scared."

" 'Den go to sleep or somethin', I dunno." he spoke quickly and disdainfully, as if irritated with the world.

Toki didn't notice this. He just swallowed and stared out the little window. "Buts I'm nots tired."

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it?" Pickles asked, annoyed. "There ain't no booze, so-"

"Talks to me! Distract me or something!"

"Fine, I...uh..." he dug his iPod out of his pocket and forced it into the guitarist's hand. "Listen to this."

The Norwegian smiled, put the earphone in his ear, and then went to sleep soon after on the drummer's shoulder. He stayed like this for the remainder of the ride until the plane landed. Pickles never noticed the rolling green hills outside of the window, because if he had he might have stopped and wondered. Norway wasn't completely snow-covered, but it wasn't like this, a beautiful, rolling green countryside. He woke Toki up and together they exited the plane, their minds distracted by thoughts of Norway.

"Okay," Pickles began as they stepped out of the airport and into the bustling parking lot. "let's get our bags take you home so you can-"

"Uh...P-Pickle?"

"Huh?"

"This ams not Norway, this ams some place else."

His green eyes grew wide as he looked up; nearly every person walking around in the parking lot had bright orange hair and green eyes. "Whadda mean 'dis ain't Norway? Where else would it be?" he peered over and saw a sign that said _Airport of Galway, Ireland. _Pickles gasped. "Oh my Gad—we're in Ireland? How the fuck did 'dis happen?"

"I mays have read the tickets wrong." Toki mumbled, looking down, clearly embarrassed at his mistake. "I must haves misread it ors-"

He was livid. "You _may' _have misread the damn tickets?"

"I'm sorrys! You know I'ms not that good at readings Anglish-es."

"I thought you'd at least be able to see the name of your own _country! _Gad damn it!" he howled, kicking up a bunch of rocks and gravel. Around him people who were walking by stared at them with curious eyes, but Pickles didn't care. He grabbed Toki's arm and hissed, "We ain't gat no luggage—it's probably on a first-class plane to Norway—and no money. Where's your cell phone?"

"Ins my suitcase that Ofdensen sent to Lillehammer."

Pickles let out an exasperated sigh. "Great, 'dat's just fucking _great! _What're we supposed to do now?"

With nothing else to do, they asked around and found out that there was a flight to Norway that would depart from Dublin, Ireland, a city that was 132 miles away. The flight would leave in three days, four if there was a delay. Toki said hopefully, "We can makes that, can't we?"

"In three days? We'll never make 'dat, nat with no money."

"But we cans try! Comes on!" he ran out of the airport and, not knowing what else to do, Pickles followed. This was going to be the longest three days of his entire life.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

****A/N****

**Okay, so now I guess I'm taking a break from tears, depression, and suicide; this story will focus on a lighter subject. Yes, the next fic I put up will return to the old kind of serious, sort of dark [and, in this case, oddly whimsical] Pickles/Toki theme. Also, I am very aware that I _just _finished a story yesterday, but honestly I am really bored when I don't have story going on...yeah, I'm fucked up like that...**

**Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, because there's more to come. Reviews are appreciated and thanks to all my readers who reviewed my other stories. You are all amazing, as always. ^_^**

**Peace, Love, & Ireland **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2, Part 1  
**_**Reality**_

And so they walked on and on, both in a sort of troubled silence. Since _Dethklok _was huge all around the world, Pickles feared that they might be recognized by some annoying fans, so he insisted that they take a road out of the main city. It was a rugged one of dust and overgrown with grass; it didn't have a steady course. The road would turn and follow the roll of the gentle hills of the Irish countryside. In any other situation, Pickles might have thought it was quite beautiful to look at, but now it just made him feel so hopeless. Ahead of them there were miles of more green hills, making the whole trip seem like a laughable task. How could they get past all of this in three days?

"Wowee." Toki commented as they climbed up a hill. He still clutched his deddy bear tightly in his right hand. "The road goes ons for a long times, huh, Pickle?"

He said thru gritted teeth, "Just shut up, okay?"

"Okays." there was a slight pause before he continued, sounding annoyingly cheery and carefree. "It ams pretty here, huh?"

"Yeah, great." he mumbled in aggravation as he lost his balance and stumbled. Toki caught him and grinned.

"You ams drunk?"

Pickles rolled his eyes. "I wish."

He and the guitarist walked some more, climbing more hills and kicking up more dust, until an old sign appeared to the side of the road that read, _Oranmore, Ireland: 5 mi. _Toki walked up to the sign and cocked his head to the side, a confused look on his face. He pulled the drummer over and indicated the words.

"What ams they mean?"

He glared up at the street sign and let out a hopeless sigh. "Fuckin' _five _miles? Are you kidding me? I'm nat gonna walk five Gad damned miles!"

"To what? Ams it a place?"

"No, it ain't, 'cause we're nat going that far. There's no-"

"But we haves to get to Norway," the guitarist said, his pale eyes full of hope. "sos I can gets ho-"

Pickles let out a frustrated groan. "Do you really think that you're gonna wanna stay there, that this is the best plan for you?"

Toki thought for a moment then nodded. "Ja, sures."

The drummer rolled his eyes. "Hell no it's not, it's a horrible idea! What the fuck are you gonna do when you can't call anybody? Ofdensen won't be there to fix your problems and there won't be any Klokateers to make your food—you'll be _alone."_

"But you ams with me." he said, smiling sweetly. Pickles shook his head.

"I'm not gonna stay around forever, dude. Listen, just think—what about the fan girls? Don't you love letting them screw your brains out?"

Toki shrugged, clearly unmoved by this argument. "I wills finds a _real_ ladies to marry and what lets me fuck her brains out." Pickles thought of how to proceed, but before he could the guitarist added, "And fors the record, I'ms sorry that you gots dragged into this, that it was your turns."

"I...whadda mean, dude?"

"You and Nathans haves that turns thing where—never mind, I'm just sorrys." and he turned and continued to walk down the dirt road, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans; the drummer raced to catch up to him.

"I would've come anyway."

He laughed. "Nos you wouldn't have. I'm nots stupid."

"But-"

"I knows how it works. We ams just all in the stupid band for the moneys, right? The only reason that anyones cares abouts me is because I'm worth _moneys. _I get how it ams." he spoke casually, but also with a hint of sadness in his voice. "But for me it was more abouts the music, not the moneys, you know?"

"Sure, I guess." Pickles responded. The truth was that he didn't know; hell, he was just in it for the money. What was Toki talking about?

"Ja," he continued. "the music. I loves it, but the money we could gets anywhere else. There ams billions and billions of moneys in the world, but only one _Dethklok."_

The drummer swallowed and said quietly, "Ain't really _Dethklok _without you, dude."

The Norwegian grinned. "Well then that ams what it's about to be." and he continued walking, whistling a joyful tune. Pickles just sighed and followed him, looking oddly gloomy. They continued down the winding dirt road for hours, until the roof a building came into view. Toki latched onto the drummer's arm and pointed to it, his eyes glowing with excitement. "We ams almost there, see? We ams-"

He just glared down at the ground and mumbled, "Gad, I hope they have booze in this shit-hole town..." surely enough, the first building they came to was a shabby looking bar. The drummer pulled Toki over to it. "Dude, we gatta stap just for one drink."

He shook his head. "No, 'cause you ams just going to get drunks and-"

"Just shut up." he interrupted as he lead the guitarist into the bar. Toki followed close to him, looking almost fearful as they walked up to the bar; he carefully concealed his deddy bear from view. Pickles grinned. "Thank Gad, finally some fuckin' booze. I haven't had a drink in-"

"Hey!" one of the other men in the bar yelled at them. Toki turned and stared at him oddly; he had a very strange, amusing accent. The man stared at him, took a drink from the bottle he was holding, and laughed.

"Stupid long-haired queer..."

"Pickle?" the guitarist murmured, poking the drummer's shoulder. "Maybe we shoulds go."

"What? Why? I haven't even had my drink yet, so just-"

On the other side of the room, the man who had spoken before rose from his chair, walked over to them, and said to Pickles, "Would you mind it if I bought your girl a drink?"

"What?" the drummer asked. "My—oh, you mean Toki?" the Norwegian just looked away and blushed in shame.

"Just lets gos, please."

"But my drink!"

"_Please?"_

"So you mean that you're _both-_" the man snickered. "-why don't you both just get outta _my _bar and go and cut your hair?" he pushed past Pickles and went up the bar.

Toki made to walk out, but the drummer caught him and said to the man, "Hey, dude, what the fuck is your prablem?"

"And what's wrong with your voice, son?"

"My—what the hell does 'dat mean?"

"I mean that you're not from here, are you?" the Irishman turned and faced him, a smile on his face. "Probably tourists from America."

"I'm from Wiscansin, dildo."

He laughed and shrugged off the insult. "Queer pair, you and your friend are."

"We ain't gay, you fuckin'-"

"Just lets it go." Toki urged.

"But he just called us gay!" he glared over at the man. "I don't have to take his fucking shit. I ain't had a drink in a whole day, so why should I-"

The Irishman just chuckled and patted Pickles' shoulder condescendingly. "Just go back home, son. Go back to America, or where the hell it is you're from."

"Why the hell are you causin' shit with me, dude?"

"Why not?" he asked, quite amused as he took a sip of his drink. He leaned close to Toki and whispered in his ear, "Hell, buy me one more drink and I'll fuck you." his breath reeked of alcohol, and he was rather unsteady on his feet; that's when it hit Toki that the man was drunk. Clearly Pickles had never considered this, because in a moment he was pushing the guy away, threatening to kill him.

"Don't talk to him like 'dat!"

"Get offa me, you stupid-"

"Fuck you!"

In a moment they were an inch away from fighting, but before they could, a crowd of ginger-haired, bright-eyed Irishman had seized both men and were holding them back. The man who had initiated the fight laughed at Pickles' rage. "Boy, you couldn't beat an Irishman in anything."

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you dildo!"

"Pickle!" Toki gasped. "Don'ts say stuff likes that!"

"Why nat?"

"_Nat?" _the man and his friends began laughing. "What the hell is a _nat?"_

"Fuck it, I'm gonna-" he glanced over at the bar, saw a cool drink awaiting him, tempting him. God, he wanted so badly to drop it and get drunk, but he also wanted to beat the crap out of the man... "I'm gonna beat you in a drinkin' contest." he said, a smile spreading across his face. He stopped struggling against the men who were trying to hold him back and said calmly, "If I drink more'n you, 'den you leave me and my friend alone and give us directions to Dublin."

The man laughed and nodded. "Okay, son, okay. What about if _I _win?"

"Well, whadda want?"

He gave Toki a hungry glance and said, "Your friend."

"He's a _dude, _though."

"Get a couple more drinks in me, and he'll be as good as any girl." he said, making all his friends laugh. Toki turned red once again and ran a hand thru his long, brown hair nervously. The guitarist was still hugging that stupid bear to him, desperate to keep a hold of him. It seemed like that dumb stuffed animal was the only thing keeping him tethered to the strange ground of this foreign place.

"Pickle," he said desperately. "don'ts do this! All Irish peoples do ams drink; you'lls never win and I'll be stuck with that guys..."

"Ain't you remember 'dat I'm Irish-American? I don't give a fuck who he is, I'll beat him." he said to the Norwegian as he went over and grabbed himself a seat. A full cup of beer was placed before him and the other man. Toki watched in silent worry as they two began. One cup down, then another and another and another and another...

In the end, Pickles was looking quite confident as he downed his tenth glass of alcohol. The other man just dropped out of his seat with a drunken groan. Toki let out a sigh of relief and went to help the drummer up. " 'Kay, now we gat a deal—how you get't Dublin from-"

"Pickle, let's just gos." Toki said, noticing the angered looks on the other men's faces. He guided the drummer out of the bar. Once they were outside, Pickles looked around and smirked.

"I won yet?"

"Ja, you wons."

" 'Dat's good." and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 2, Part 2  
**_**The Storm**_

Not knowing what else to do, Toki went to go get directions to Dublin and a bottle of booze. He poured some of the alcohol over Pickles and watched him jump in surprise. The drummer blinked, wiped the booze away from his eyes, and let out a hiss of annoyance."Toki, why're you pourin' booze an me, you Gad damned little fucker...shit..." he pressed a hand to his forehead and shut his eyes tightly. "Crap, I gat a _headache..."_

"You ams so damns stupid!" Toki was so angry that he couldn't think of what else to say; he just threw the bottle of booze at the drummer with an enraged yell. Pickles caught it and took a deep drink from it before struggling to get to his feet. He followed the guitarist down the road, ignoring the pounding headache that he had.

"Hey, where're you goin'?"

Toki whirled around to face him, an infuriated look on his face. "You just couldn't dos it, could you?" he hugged his deddy bear to his chest tightly as he whispered in a deadly voice, "You just couldn't stands not to get drunk, could yous?"

He sighed in exasperation. "Are you serious? I've been walking with you up hills, thru a whole Gad damned _country, _and you expect me nat to drink?"

"You didn'ts haves to gets in a contest abouts it! Why did you dos that?" he was beginning to blush again. He tried to hide this, but couldn't.

"Oh, I get it." Pickles smiled a little and slapped Toki's shoulder, trying to signify his understanding of the matter. "You're embarrassed, right? 'Cause of what 'dat guy said, that you looked like a chick?"

"No, but thanks for bringings that up again." he pushed the drummer away and clutched his deddy bear tight. "You knows what I did while you was layings there beings stupid and drunks? I went and founds someone who-whats would give me directions, so you know what I ams doing now?"

"Keep askin' me questions I don't know the fuckin' answer to?" he ventured to say. Toki ignored his attempt at humor.

"Nos, I ams goings to that place—Hublands."

Pickles rolled his eyes and followed him down the street. "You idiot, you mean, Dublin."

"Whatsever! That ams what I said!" he continued to march down the paved street, dodging past cars and hurrying past people. The drummer followed close behind, but he hesitated when the guitarist turned off the main road and began walking away from the main heart of the town.

"Hey, where are we goin'?"

"You ams not going with me anywheres, asshole!" Toki snapped. Pickles felt an odd, sickly shame fill his heart as he drank some more from his bottle of alcohol.

"I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it aga-"

"Ja you wills. You ams always getting drunk!"

The continued walking for quite a while until they were trampling along yet another dirt road. If Pickles hadn't known better, he'd have thought that they were going down the exact same road that they'd gone down earlier that day. The only difference now was that as they walked the once perfectly blue sky was being overtaken by gray and black clouds. The drummer followed close behind Toki, peering up the stormy sky nervously.

"Maybe we should-"

"Gets away from me, please. Your smells like puke and booze." Toki commented, petting his deddy bear's head distractedly. Pickles narrowed his eyes at the Norwegian.

"You're still nat over that?"

"Not overs it?" they both stopped walking in the middle of the dusty road, ignoring the sound of thunder that boomed somewhere off in the distance. "You humiliated mes, Pickle!"

He threw his hands up in the air and yelled in annoyance. "Get _over _it, already! Gad damn it, what the-"

"And you sounds so stupid, toos!" Toki continued. "You gos around all the time sounding like a fucking idiots..."

"_I _sound like an idiot?"

"Ja, you dos," he said, glaring at Pickles. "likes how you go around all the times saying 'Gads' instead of 'Gods'. It ams so embarrassing!"

"I can't help it, but what about you?" the drummer demanded angrily. "How you always add 's' to the enda stuff."

"I dos not!"

" 'Dere you go, right there! You just did it!"

He shook his head and insisted, "Dids not."

"Oh my—fuck you, dildo!" Pickles howled, drinking some more. "I can't believe that Ofdensen made me..." his voice trailed off abruptly as he glanced back over at an enraged Toki.

The Norwegian's anger melted away into sadness as he asked, "Ofdensens _makes _you come? You didn't even wants to be here?"

"I...no, Toki, I'm-"

"I knews it!" he exclaimed, pressing his deddy bear to his cheek, trying to use its soft fur as a way to give him a little comfort. Behind them, a bolt of lightning flared and was followed by more thunder, but still neither of them noticed. Instead the guitarist just kept talking. "If you didn't wants to come, then why did you? Do you know how fuckings embarrassing this ams for me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I swear." he rushed to say, taking a careful step nearer the Norwegian. "I really did wanna come, I just—dude, you gotta understand, I just have better things to do than taking you on a damn tour of Ireland. You get that, don't you?"

"Nos I don't gets it!" he snapped, backing away from Pickles. "Fucks you! Just gos back to your stupid bar and drinks until you die! I don'ts care!"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" he growled. "You want me to just stap drinkin'? Fuck that! You act like I've never tried! Give me that stupid bear!" he snatched Toki's deddy bear and threw it to the ground. The guitarist's eyes grew wide as he tried to pick up his bear; before he could, it finally began to pour down rain.

In that one pitifully depressing moment, it seemed as if the entire sky opened up and unleashed itself down upon the two men. There was wind, there were leaves flying in the storm from the trees that stood nearby the road, and there was the pounding, freezing rain. Pickles dropped his bottle of alcohol in the rush to retreat under one trees that stood beside the road, but Toki didn't follow. Instead he hurried to the complete opposite side of the road and huddled under his own tree, sobbing as he watched his deddy bear get drenched in the rain. There was something that the Norwegian hadn't told anyone before—after so many years of living with the fury of the snow storms in Norway, he'd grown terrified of the falling rain. He much preferred snow, the soft, white flakes that couldn't harm anyone by falling...

So it rained and rained, and they each trembled and cried under their own separate trees, trying not to look to miserable in front of the other. Gradually, though, despite the cold wetness of their situation, they drifted off to a wretched sleep.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 2, Part 3  
**_**A Muddy Compromise**_

_Squelch, squish, splosh. _And again. More squelching. Pickles wrinkled his nose at the disgusting sound and slowly opened his eyes. Toki was trudging thru the thick mud that the dirt road had been morphed into. The drummer yawned, sat up, and rubbed his burning eyes. It was apparently a new day—the sun was shining brightly above them, but everything else still looked purely dismal. Branches were scattered around the muddy mess of the road and leaves were plastered to the ground, still wet with rainwater. The drummer tried to get up, but fell back as his brain screamed. Booze, he needed more booze. Thankfully, there was his bottle, still shining in the middle of the road, even though it was coated in brown muck like everything else.

"Hey, dude." he called to the Norwegian.

Toki ignored him and finally managed to get to his deddy bear. Carefully, he picked the stuffed animal up from out of the mud and wiped some of the sticky earth from its fur. A deep, concerned frown was on his face as he stood there, filthy from head to foot. He even had mud in his hair; his once black jeans were covered in it, along with his bare arms. Pickles arched a brow and watched as the guitarist whispered something to his deddy bear and smiled sweetly, as if he were talking to an actual person, a friend.

"Hey, Toki? You awake?"

The Norwegian gasped in surprise and lowered his deddy bear; he turned to face Pickles, revealing a mud-caked face of misery. "Ja, I ams."

"I...um...you slept?"

He shrugged, making some of the filth fall from his shirt. "Maybes. Dids you?"

"Yeah, sure...you wanna come help me up? I gat—sorry, _got_ a hell of a headache."

Toki said nothing as he walked over, squelching thru more mud, and held his hand out to the drummer. "You ams all dirty."

He grinned. "And you're na—not?"

The Norwegian rolled his eyes. "Don'ts talks like that, idiot. You sounds stupid."

"Well if you don't want me to have an accent no more, 'den-"

"No, fucks what I want." he said, wiping his nose with one dirty hand. Clearly he'd spent the whole night terrified and crying instead of sleeping. This fact was validated as he admitted, "Last nights you scared me. I looked over, and you was lyings there all gross lookings...I wanted to tells you that I was sorry, but..."

"Nah, s'fine, dude. I'm sorry." he accepted Toki's help and rose to his feet slowly and unsteadily. Once he was up, he put a hand to his head and groaned. "Fuck, I've gat a headache."

"And now I've gots a gross bear." the guitarist said, indicating his deddy bear. Gently he pressed it to Pickles' arm and asked, fear in his eyes, "You ams really smart, Pickle. Wills he be alright? I think he's sick."

The drummer felt sort of foolish for even having to have his conversation to begin with, but he couldn't help but to nod and say gently, "Yeah, he's gonna be fine." and to show how sorry he was, he patted the stuffed animal's head and smiled. "We're gonna be okay, too."

"You thinks so?"

He shrugged and went over to the middle of the road, to where his bottle of booze had spent the night. Without much thought, he kicked it to the side and watched the brown, warm alcohol drain onto the road. "I dunno, I ain't good ant knowing things. I think we'll be fine, though."

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

****A/N****

**No, I'm not racist or anything. All those cracks about Irish people drinking were in good fun. There's a way to stereotype pretty much any race, but that doesn't mean that I'm not agreeing with any of them. Hell, I'm Cajun, so if you really want you can joke about how much gumbo I eat [just had some last night, actually], how drunk I get during Mardi Gras, or how I live right in the hart of the swamp and eat alligator. My point is that I love everybody, so yeah...I'm not racist, just so you know.**

**ALSO, TO MY READERS:**

_**sierra t—**_**lol are you serious? I ****_so _wish I was Irish! And I've sort of always wanted to write something about Ireland. It's a beautiful place, after all. All they have here in Louisiana is swamps and Spanish moss. :P**

_**Slegger0404—**_**I've been wanting to tell you for a while [you've been reviewing my stories from pretty much the beginning] that I really do especially enjoy reading what you have to say about my stuff, so thanks for that. I really, really appreciate it! I'm glad you like my stories and I hope you like the ones I publish in the future. ^_^**

**As always, Peace & Love**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, Part 1  
**_**New Town, Bad News**_

More trudging thru mud, trying to ignore the pleasurable weather of the new day coupled with the wonderful Irish countryside. That was all that awaited them for the future of that day, until they came upon yet another town. Pickles didn't even look for a bar, though. This time he was smart; he and Toki just planned to walk right thru it. They couldn't help but hesitate, however, when they came across a newsstand. As they passed it, Pickles stopped dead in his tracks, grabbed one of the news papers, and read the front page, letting out little whimpers of fear. Toki peered over his shoulder, a brow raised in confusion.

"What ams wrong?"

"I...they're..._look!" _he held out the paper to the Norwegian and pointed to the main headline. _DETHKLOK DRUMMER AND RHYTHM GUITARIST TO BE REPLACED. _Toki saw it, but shook his head, a puzzled look on his face.

"What does this means? I can't reads Eng-"

"They're kickin' us outta the band, Toki!" he cried, throwing the newspaper to the floor and falling back onto the newsstand. His green eyes were wide and he was nearly hyperventilating. Desperately he dug in the pocket of his pants, looking for his old asthma inhaler that he sometimes had to use. Of course it wasn't there. Just great. He was left to just stand there and tremble, nearly fall into a sort of mania over the news. "They can't, can they? What the hell—I'm gonna have to m-move back to my parent's garage an'...oh my Gad, oh my Gad, oh my-"

Toki frowned, picked up the paper, and folded it. He gently placed it back on the stand, and let out a deep, calm breath. "Pickle," he said, his voice a mellow hum of comfort. "you gots to calms down before you haves a fucking heart attack or something."

"_They can't kick me out of 'dat band!" _he sobbed dryly, letting his head fall into his hands. He didn't know what to do—cry, yell, kill someone...he wanted to take his anger out on so many things, but just didn't know how to go about doing it. Instead he sat there, panting and trying not to have a panic attack in the middle of the street. He grabbed Toki's shoulder in a death grip and said breathlessly, "I can't breathe..."

"Ja you cans." he said, giving him an odd look. "Just gos like this-" he inhaled sharply, and then let out the breath. Pickles repeated this, but it didn't help much. Instead he just shut his eyes tightly and began muttering to himself.

"They can't do 'dat, there's no way; I'm Pickles, Pickles the Drummer from _Dethklok..."_

"And I'ms Toki Wartooth from _Dethklok, _but it ams going to be okay." the guitarist said, giving him a small, encouraging smile. "Reallys, it ams fine."

"F-Fine? How the fuck do you think this is fine?" when he said nothing, the drummer scoffed. "It ain't just _fine! _We're gone for a few days and they replace us—_me? _How the fuck could they do this? Those fuckin' assholes! They were like my family, they were like my Gad damn brothers! They-"

"No they weren't." Toki interrupted, shaking his head. "It never was abouts each other, just the moneys. The band never was-" he shrugged and said gently, trying not to make Pickles spiral into another panic attack, "-you knows, _togethers. _We all just sorts of screwed each other overs and dids our own thing."

"I know, but—what about you? You told me it wasn't about the money." he said, looking down. "What was it about then if the money didn't matter? What was the whole point?"

Toki shrugged. "I don'ts knows."

"The fame?"

"Not reallys," he said, shaking his head. "I could have lived withouts that."

"The girls?"

"I don't really likes them anyways. They annoys me."

"Then what? The music?"

Toki smiled. "Ja, maybe that was it. I really did loves the music, but you guys was always betters. You was likes my family."

"Then why're we goin' to Norway, then?" Pickles inquired cluelessly. "If we're your family, then why are you goin' home?"

"You haves to leave your family eventuallys, Pickle." he answered, walking away from the newsstand. "Maybe one days you'll finally gets it."

Together they continued thru the town; they had no money, couldn't buy food or water, a hotel, or any of the luxuries that they had been indulged with in their former life. As they walked, Pickles' stomach let out a loud growl. He smacked his lips and sighed. He still had a headache, and now his stomach was aching so badly with hunger that he could barley walk. He looked over and noticed that although Toki appeared to be his usual happy, childish self, a hint of hunger and misery shone behind his eyes as they walked. Would they ever get home?

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 3, Part 2  
**_**Signs Of Salvation**_

Three hours later they were staring down the edge of a cliff, watching waves crash against the jagged rocks below. Toki swallowed. "Boy, that ams a long fall, huh Pickle?" He nodded and sat down in the ledge, let his feet dangle off the edge. The Norwegian's eyes grew wide as he hurried to push the drummer back onto solid land. "What if you falls and die?"

"I'm nat gonna fall. Besides, what else are we supposed to do? The road ends here, dude; no more fuckin' dirt trails to hike thru and no more signs to follow. This is just it. Where else are we supposed t'go?" he asked, indicating the endless rolling hills that lay beyond the water's shoreline. There appeared to be several miles of land to travel, and their rode had disappeared here, a few feet from the cliff. They were lost, staring down at a deep body of water that neither of them knew the name of.

Toki was still holding his deddy bear close to his mud-encrusted shirt. He scratched his cheek distractedly, rubbed off some of the earth that was caked there, and stared down at the water. A slow, steady smile grew across his face as he stood there hugging his stuffed animal. Pickles didn't notice. He was too busy looking up and watching the clouds roll lazily from one side of the sky to the other. He hardly noticed it when Toki sat down next to him and began unlacing his boots. He handed them to the drummer.

"Holds these, please."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

And Toki grinned walked over to the edge of the high cliff, and, without hesitation, leaped down into the crashing waters below. As soon as heard the splash, Pickles blinked himself out of his daydream and looked around. "Toki? Toki, where the fuck are you?" he noticed that he was holding the guitarist's boots. He laid them to the side and cautiously peered over the edge of the cliff. Toki was down below, floating on his back in the waves. Pickles sighed in annoyance. "Toki, you stupid dick! Why the hell did you jump aff the damn-"

"Hey, Pickle, guess what?" he called up to him, spitting out a mouthful of water.

"What?"

"I'ms swimming!"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Comes swim with me!"

He looked around as if afraid to be seen as he took off his shoes. What the hell did he have to lose? He was probably doomed to die in this Irish hell anyway, so he quickly unlaced his sneakers, threw them to the side, and ran off the cliff. It was a wonderful sensation to experience, that feeling of being lighter than air and then falling into the perfectly cool waves below. He fell into the water with a splash and immediately swam to the surface, panting for breath and laughing.

"This is stupid, dude, so fuckin' dumb."

Toki hadn't stopped smiling; he shrugged, dived under the waves, then floated on his back, flexing his toes in the water as if it were the most puzzling sensation in the world. "At least we ams not so gross and muddy no mores." he ran a hand thru his brown hair, which was now a deep jet black from the water. On his chest rested his beloved deddy bear, its gleaming button-eyes staring up at the sun. "My bear ams happy now, too. He don't looks as sick, does he?"

"Nope, he looks good."

"I knows." he began whistling a happy tune, grabbed his bear, and dived under the water again. Pickles followed him and they swam beneath the churning surface of the lake for about thirty seconds before coming up again for air.

They swam for about an hour before getting out again and laying down on the shore to dry off; they stayed there and threw sand, rocks, and shells at each other for another twenty minutes before getting up and following a trail that lead up back to the top of the cliff. They got their shoes, and just like that they were back where they had been an hour and twenty minutes ago. They were, like so many times before, back at square one.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 3, Part 4  
**_**Miracle In Dublin**_

More walking and soon they were in, thankfully enough, Dublin. It was early the next morning, but somehow they had made it just as the sun rose and the clock struck seven. Pickles looked around, took in the aroma of something fresh and delicious, something that he remembered from home. He glanced over at Toki and smiled.

"You smell that? Smells like coffee, huh?"

He nodded and sighed. He looked so tired, with dark circles ringing his once placidly shining eyes. "Ja, it does. I sures wish I hads some coffee."

"Then let's go get some."

"But we don't haves any money."

He shrugged and pointed to a bench. "Just go sit over there and in a little while I'll be back with some coffee."

"Buts-"

"Just trust me. I know what I'm doin'." he guided the guitarist over to the bench and had him sit down with his teddy bear. Once that was done, he turned and walked around the corner, sniffing out the coffee. While Pickles was gone, Toki laid down on the cool bench and had himself a little nap before being woken up again.

The drummer sat next to him as they drank their coffee. It was like a miracle, like a planned vacation. How was it that instead of ending up in some abandoned, frozen wasteland they'd been sent here, to this wonderfully green city? Pickles pondered this as he glanced over and watched Toki blow the steam from his coffee, close his eyes, and take a deep drink. He noticed now just how purely good the guitarist was for putting up with him thru all of this, how amazingly tolerant and, in a way, just plain perfect he was.

"Heys, Pickle?"

"Huh?"

"I've gots to go home now, huh? Backs to Norway on that plane?"

He nodded and sipped his coffee. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh..." a pause then, "Ams you going to come with me, or just flys straight back home?"

"I don't know." the drummer admitted. "I never really thought about it."

"Huh." Toki chuckled and said thoughtfully, "Kinds of a funny thing not to thinks about, huh?"

"I just never thought we'd actually get here." Pickles said almost sadly. "I just never thought-" he cut himself off before he could become fully and wholly emotional. The Norwegian peered over at him and smiled curiously.

"Whats?"

"I just...you really wanna go away from me—from everything?"

"Nots you. I could stays here and just hangs out with you forever, but it won't gets me anywhere."

"Oh," he said, nodding. "yeah, I get it." and he drank the rest of his coffee and threw the cup in a nearby trashcan before looking down the busy street. "Maybe we should start tryin' to get to the airport, huh? You gatta catch your plane."

"Buts...you wants me to go?"

"No, but if you wanna just leave everything and-"

"Leaves everything?" he asked, rising from his seat and grabbing his deddy bear. "You means like quit, right?"

Pickles shook his head. "Nah, you're nat quitting, you're just...ah crap, Toki, I really, _really _don't wanna be the one to say goodbye to you." and he kicked at a stone that was on the ground and mumbled, "I wish I'd never come."

Toki sighed. "Stills about that, huh? Well here ams an idea—I'll gos to the airport alones so you won't be bothered by tellings me bye, okays?" he meant to voice this idea as a way to bring Pickles some kind of comfort, a last act of kindness so to speak. They'd never see each other after this, so Toki really wanted him to just be spared any pain or regret. The words, however, were taken the wrong way. For some absurd reason, they cut the drummer deeply, and sparked a little bit of anger in him.

"But I-"

"Nos, it ams fine. I gets it, I really dos. I'll sees you later—no, actuallys I won't. Goodbye, Pickle." he turned and walked away, but the drummer followed him anyway.

"Why do you freak out at everything I say?"

"You always says the wrong things." he commented, trying to hide the pain that was on his face. He didn't want to say goodbye, not now. Anytime other than now, maybe, but not now...he was about to cry. "Likes how you wish you was never here..."

"I didn't mean it like 'dat!"

"Well you saids it like that, now leaves me alone!" he went and walked around the corner, left Pickles alone to be pushed and shoved by the crowd of people around him. The drummer stood there not understanding what had just happened, just knowing that he didn't have a way with words at all. How would Toki get to the airport? He didn't know how to read English or even—it hit him just as he looked out into the bustling street and watched a bus drive by. Pickles tried to get the look the confusion and pain from his face. He had to find the nearest bus stop.

It was an odd thing—this whole trip he'd known that the only reason that he was here was to let Toki go, to tell him goodbye, but now that the time had actually come he found this quite impossible. Toki was his, should never be parted from him, not for a moment; he was like the funnier, more absurd part of him that had dissolved long ago in the constant brutality of _Dethklok. _What if the guitarist went to Norway and lost this boyish sort of charming immaturity that Pickles loved so much? The drummer felt his heart pounding in his ears as he hurried and pushed past people. This was hopeless, he quickly realized. There were just too many people, too many overlapping faces and voices—it was overwhelming.

In an instant he was devoured by the insanity of Dublin, and it was like he was back with the band trying to drown out the crying and screaming fans. He remembered once how Toki had come up to him backstage after a show and said over the noise of the fans, "Can I ask you somethings?"

"Sure, what?"

"All these peoples, the fans and stuffs—they say they loves us, and they shouts out, 'Hey, Toki Wartooth, we loves you,' but they don'ts really, do they?"

Pickles had arched a brow. This was an oddly mature question from the guitarist. "I...I dunno, dude. I guess nat."

"Well if they don't loves us, then who does?"

"Nobody, I guess."

"Oh." he looked down, seemed so pitiful and gloomy that Pickles had no choice but to gently drape an arm over his shoulders and pull him into a brief embrace.

"S'okay, though. People like us, we're so brutal that we don't need love."

This didn't seem to help Toki, though. He just looked down and asked quietly, his voice a whisper in the drummer's ear, "Well if none of thems or nobody else loves us, cans we just loves each other?"

"I-"

"Just likes a secret loves, so it ams still brutal and metal and all that stupid crap?"

And his mind came back to the present just as he realized that, despite everything that had been said over the past few days and since then, he actually _did _love Toki. The Norwegian was the only person in the world who—he was just the only person in the whole world, that was it. He was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that was important, and the only thing that could absolutely kill Pickles and rip him apart. This concept did scare the drummer—terrified him beyond any form of rational thought, actually—but he found that he couldn't help it. The feeling was there and he knew it would never leave, not until he found Toki.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 3, Part 5  
**_**Make It Good Again**_

Toki sat on the last seat of a bus, hugging his deddy bear tightly to him in an effort to quell the growing anxiety inside of his heart. He was leaving, he was really doing it. Would he get jealous when he heard who _Dethklok _had gotten to replace him? Probably. Would anyone even miss him? More importantly, would Pickles miss him?

Just as the bus began to depart from the stop, it braked and opened its doors again. A wild-eyed, orange-haired man stepped on. Toki sank down low in his seat, determined not to let Pickles see him, but it was too late; he was already pushing past people and walking over to him. Roughly, he pulled the Norwegian out of his seat and urged him to the front of the bus.

"Get aff this Gad damn bus _now."_

"Fucks you." he said, sitting in the lap of another passenger. "I'm not leavings."

Pickles wouldn't accept this. He leaned forward and whispered in the guitarist's ear, still panting from having to stop the bus from driving away, "Listen here, you obnoxious little cack-sucker, I just ran thru a whole city, thru traffic, thru green lights, and flagged down a fuckin' bus just to get you, so I don't really give a living hell what you want, you're getting aff."

The guitarist just flashed him a boyishly daring smile and challenged, "That ams nice, but what ams a cack?"

"Fuck you, _cock-_sucker." he retorted as he stood up to his full height. "So, what're you gonna do, sit here in this dude's lap, or come with me?"

"Guess I'm sittings here."

"Hmm. Sorry you think that, 'cause you're nat." he carefully scooped Toki up into his arms, and pushed past people until he had reached the front of the bus. Just before he exited, he turned to the driver and grinned. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "for, y'know, pullin' over and everything." the man just nodded and watched the two men get off.

Pickles watched the bus drive off down the busy Dublin road as Toki fought to get on his own feet. "Lets me go, you idiots! This ams so-"

"Stupid?"

"_Gays."_

He sighed and let Toki climb out of his arms. The guitarist glared at him and turned to walk away, but Pickles stopped him and pulled him back. "Listen, I'm sorry for everything. The truth is, that I really, really do care the world for you, dude."

"So you wants to goes with me to Lillehammer?"

He nodded and said eagerly, "Fuck, I'll go there and _stay_ if you want me to." it was more than a joking suggestion, he was halfway serious. Toki just shook his head and laughed at this, though. The drummer felt a little pricking pain enter his heart, but decided to ignore it. "Seriously, I'm glad that we're here together."

"Sos ams I, I guess." he admitted.

"So we're gonna go catch that plane?"

He thought for a moment then nodded. "Ja, sures." he took Pickles' hand and lead him down the street, a smile on his face.

_Not bad, _Pickles thought. _Maybe I'm not a total fuck-up after all..._

An hour later they were off from the airport, and Toki was once again sleeping soundly on the drummer's shoulder. There had, of course, been some complications in the airport. The two had ended up convincing a couple of fans to give them their jackets and their tickets, but in the end it had all worked out. For once they were actually grateful for the fans. Now they sat snug and content in their seats, wrapped up in jackets and sharing one another's warmth. For that one moment everything seemed perfect, at least until they landed in Lillehammer.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

****A/N****

**The reason that I'll really be cranking out chapters is mainly because I want to move on to my next fic. I've already given you several hints as to what it will revolve around. _Several. _Anyways, reviews are appreciated and all that good stuff and I guess that's all I have to say. Only a few more chapters left. **

**Peace & Love**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4, Part 1  
**_**Another Mistake**_

"Well, where's your house, dude?" Pickles asked as they walked out of the airport. He hugged himself and shrank back as a chilling wind blew past them, freezing them to the core. Toki managed to mostly ignore it. He seemed to be quite content with the cold, having grown up with it as a child, and was staring up wistfully at the snow that was falling around them.

"It ams on the outside of town. It's complicated."

"Let's just get out of this stupid cold, okay?"

"Sures."

They found themselves in a small little coffee shop being served an odd crumb cake with a fruit topping. Pickles stared down at it, a pierced brow arched. "Why is it 'dat every time I've been to Norway, all I eat is stupid cake? Nat just any cake either, really girly, fuckin' fruit-and-cream-topped shit..."

Toki laughed and ate his piece quickly. "It ams ligonberry, Pickle."

"Yeah, right. Still tastes weird." he pushed his plate over to the guitarist and asked, "How come we get free food anyways? We don't gatta pay for any of this stuff, do we?" Just as he asked this, a waitress came by with two cups of steaming coffee. Toki smiled at her.

"_Takk. Har vi betale?"  
__[Thank You Very Much. We have to pay?]_

She gave him a warm smile and shook her head. _"Nei, det er gratis, kjære. Du er en helt her, Toki; alt er gratis."  
__[No, it's free, dear. You are a hero here, Toki; everything is free.] _and just like that, she walked away. Pickles glanced over at the Norwegian.

"What did she say?"

"I asked her if we hads to pay."

"And?"

He shook his head and said, a look of wonderment on his face, "Nos, she said that we didn't. Cans you believe that she saids I was likes a hero here? Ams that weird or what?" he took a large sip of his coffee and sighed in content. "I guess here peoples likes me, huh?"

"_I _like you fine."

"But you ams not the one who gives me free food."

In a few minutes they were exiting the warm little shop and Toki was thanking the owners, telling them how grateful he was. They just laughed at his humble attitude and sent him on his way. Once exposed to the freezing air again, Pickles asked, "Okay, so we gat food and all that good crap, but where's your house?"

"It's...um...outsides of town."

"You said 'dat already."

Toki's pale eyes flickered over to the forest that surrounded Lillehammer, looked past the towering trees into the darkness that the leafy sanctuary preserved. He said quiet confidently, "We just haves to walks a few miles in there ands-"

"In a Gad damn _forest?"_

"Ja, and then we'll be homes, I think."

Pickles gave him a skeptical look. "You _think? _This ain't a time for thinkin', dude, it's a time for getting our asses out of the cold."

"I knows, I—just comes on and trust me." the drummer hesitated to follow him into the woods, but eventually gave in. Toki was going to do what he thought was best no matter what, so Pickles figured that he might as well be right alongside him to pull him out of the trouble that was inevitably coming.

The sun was just beginning to set as they reached the center of the thick forest. Once there, Pickles looked around and stopped in his tracks. He peered down at the snow-covered ground, observed a bunch of slightly faded footprints—_their _footprints, ones that they'd made not that long ago. "Hey, Toki?" he called to the trembling Norwegian.

Now the guitarist was beginning to feel the biting cold. He turned to face Pickles and asked warily, "Ja?"

"We've been here already, dude."

He nodded. "Ja, I knows."

"So we're lost?" Pickles asked, his teeth chattering together. He pressed his numb hands into his jacket pockets and watched as the guitarist came over to him and looked down, a shamed look on his pale face. He looked miserable—he still was exhausted and now snow was in his hair and eyelashes. Pickles sighed and patted his shoulder supportivley. "S'okay, dude. We'll get out."

"No it ams not okay, Pickle." he said, biting back a sob. "Norway ams my _place, _I'm supposed to knows it!" he sniffled and added, "I can't even finds my way home anymores."

"Well maybe that's because this ain't your real home, dude." the drummer ventured to say before lightly dusting some snow off the Norwegian's shoulder. "You look cold."

"I ams, but so are you. You're not used to the cold, I ams."

"S'nat so bad, I guess." he commented. Out of the corner of his eye something shifted and there was a flash of gray. He gasped and whirled around as his heart skipped a beat. "T-Toki," his voice was an urgent whisper. "Did you see 'dat?"

From off in the distance there came a loud, chilling howl. Toki's face paled and he grabbed the drummer's hand tightly. "Don'ts moves, please."

"Why? What is it?" the Norwegian said nothing, just exhaled a breath of white vapor. Pickles felt his own breath catch in his throat; suddenly he wanted to cry, to run, but couldn't. He was frozen there, staring into the darkening woods, expecting some great monstrous beast to jump out at him. Nothing happened. Overhead a flock of birds flew, warming themselves in the last rays of a fading sun. Finally Toki released his hand and let out a calmed breath.

"What was 'dat?" Pickles asked.

"Nothings." he answered, stepping away from him and continuing to walk. "It was nothings for you to worry about."

"But why'd you freak—Toki, there's a thing!" he screamed suddenly, pointing to a little gray animal that was slowly stalking towards them. It snuck up from the left of them, perfectly poised and ready to leap up and strike, its teeth as white and exposed. The guitarist froze in his tracks and swallowed, focused his pale gaze on the gray wolf pup. He pushed Pickles away and began to take careful, hesitant steps back.

"Don'ts move."

"But you're pushin' me!"

"Don'ts yell!" he hissed, urging the drummer away from the tiny wolf. "Just moves back and lets me handle it."

"Handle it?" he whispered. "How the fuck do you 'handle' a Gad damned wolf?"

"It ams not a wolf, only a littles baby ones." Toki said calmly, watching the little pup slowly make its way towards them, growling. Spit fell in big drops from his mouth, and as he got closer they could both clearly see the intense yellow-brown glowing of its rabid eyes. To Pickles' surprise, the guitarist didn't show any fear. He just knelt down and held out his hand, as if encouraging the little wolf to come up to him. The drummer gasped and tried to pull Toki back up to his feet, but the Norwegian resisted. "I knows what I ams doing, dildo! If we scares it, then it'll gos and gets its whole damn pack!"

Pickles felt his heart fill with fear. How could the guitarist be so calm about this, when they were about to be torn apart by a pack of starving beasts? "He has a pack?"

"Thinks abouts it—when haves you ever seen just one wolf?"

"This ain't good, is it?"

He shrugged and said matter-of-factly, "Coulds be better, but it coulds be worse."

"But—watch it, it's jumping!" he stumbled backwards and fell as the wolf pup launched itself forward and into Toki, snapping its jaws madly. Its claws dug into the guitarist's shoulder, but thankfully his insistent bites all missed and Toki was left to lay in the snow with a mad wolf pup gnawing at his arm.

"Pickle, could you dos me a favor and gets it off of me?" he asked, still as mellow as ever. "This ams really, really painfu—ows, you stupids little..." he managed to throw the small wolf off of him and get to his feet quickly. He glared over at the terrified drummer and said, "Thanks for that helps."

"I tried but—crap!" he hissed in pain as the wolf pup locked its jaws around his leg. He fell to his knees as he tried to rip the pup away, but Toki stopped him.

"Nos, don't scares him!"

"But he's _killin' _me!"

"No he ams not, idiot! Look!" he gently removed the wolf from Pickles' leg and held it in front of his face. The pup now had a large piece of the drummer's pants in his mouth and actually seemed quite cute as he stared into Toki's pale eyes; the wolf cocked its head to the side and let an ear droop, looking oddly innocent and playful. Pickles wasn't swayed, though.

He held his bleeding leg and cried, "Throw it away or somethin'!"

From off somewhere else in the woods there was another howl. Toki actually seemed to become alarmed as he held the wolf pup close and ran a hand thru its fur. The pup tried to snap at the deddy bear that the guitarist still had—he had carefully been storing it in his pocket—but Toki pulled him away and said scoldingly, "That ams not very nice thing for you to dos, wolf. You shouldn't have bitten Pickle likes that, either."

"Don't _talk _to it, kill it!"

He stared in surprise at the other man. "Nos! Wolves ams beautiful animals, idiots! We can't just kills him!"

"But you said if we scare it, 'den-" before he could finish his sentence, the wolf pup let out a loud, echoing howl. Toki gasped and hurried to put the pup back on the ground, but by then there was already another much bigger, full-grown wolf making its way towards them. His eyes grew wide. "Oh fucks."

"Oh Gad—we're gonna die, we're gonna...Toki, I can't let you die..." Pickles said, getting to his feet and trying to protect the guitarist from the slowly approaching wolf mother.

"Gets away from me! I don't wants _you _getting hurt!" he hissed, glancing back over at the adult wolf. The pup now stood huddled behind her, whining fearfully. Toki seemed to be at a loss with himself. He looked tired, weak, confused, and terrified. Pickles had never seen him or anyone look so scared before in his life. He had the urge to run again—could he even make it? Probably not—but that would mean leaving Toki, and he couldn't do that, so he just stood there.

"We're gonna die, huh?"

"Don't be sos stupid." he said, rolling his eyes. "We can'ts die."

But the truth was that they could. It seemed that at that moment the guitarist was clouded by some insane illusion that they were immortal, unable to be touched by this horrible world. They were two of the most famous people in the world, from the best-selling band in history, _Dethklok. _They couldn't die, could they? The mother wolf seemed to disagree with this idea very strongly. She pulled her gums back, exposing a mouthful of inch-long fangs that stood out in the darkening day. They glinted almost beautifully in the light that the full moon gave off, seeming to be a morbid sign of what was to come.

"What's she gonna do?"

"I don'ts know," he admitted. "I can'ts tell..."

The wolf seemed to hesitate; she took one look back at her pup then let out a deep bark. The pup responded with another howl and danced playfully around his mother's feet, nipping and whimpering. Toki swallowed. "What the hells ams it going to d-"

Within the time span of a second, the adult wolf had brought the guitarist to the ground and had her jaws locked around his arm. She shook vehemently, growling and drooling, drawing blood. "What the fuck do I do?" Pickles cried, backing away. Toki tried to pry off the wolf's jaws with one hand, but just ended up having it bitten.

"Shits! I don't kn—gets a branch or somethings."

"A _what?"_

"A motherfuckings branch!" he howled before letting out a gasp of pain. The wolf pup had sunk its small fangs into his leg and was imitating his mothers behavior. There was a loud, disgusting crack, but Toki managed ignore it; he kicked the pup off of him, making the animal let out a loud whimper of pain. This seemed to infuriate the female wolf more. She released his arm and clawed at his jacket, ripping fabric and skin.

Pickles' mind had frozen, so the most the could bring himself to do was throw himself on the wolf, try to get it off of the Norwegian. He succeeded, but the animal just turned her fury to him, snapping at his neck and snarling. Toki reacted immediately. He pushed the wolf pup to the side, went over to a tree, and managed to break a large branch off of it. In a second the mother wolf was howling insanely as he hit her, and her grip on Pickles weakened.

"What do I do?" the drummer panted.

"This-" Toki hit the mother wolf hard. "-ams-" another hit. "-a branch!" the animal staggered and fell in the snow, breathing hard, blood matting its fur to its skull. The guitarist dropped the branch and fell to his knees, biting back tears. Pickles went over to him, put a hand on his bleeding shoulder.

"Are you-"

"F-Fines." he said, grimacing. "Just...just next times please just gets a branch."

He nodded. " 'Kay, I will."

"They ams those things on trees, you see?"

"Yeah, I-"

They both grew silent and watched as the mother wolf had her wounds licked by her concerned pup; she rose to her feet, emitting a heavy breath thru her nostrils, and gave both men one last glance with her wild, brown eyes. Blood stained the outside of her mouth and she licked at it, as if taunting them. Pickles grabbed for the branch again, but Toki stopped him.

"Don't, just lets it be."

"But-"

"Just lets it be." he repeated firmly.

They both watched as the wolf and her pup went slinking back into the black forest silently, off to find the rest of their pack. Once the animals were gone, Toki closed his eyes and let out a sob, a hand racing to his abdomen. Pickles turned to him, a look of grave concern on his face. In a moment it seemed as though all of the Norwegian's former bravery and calmness had left him; he was alone now, suffering and trying to remain silent about it.

"You're not okay, are you? You're hurt." the guitarist shook his head, making the drummer scoff. "I ain't stupid, dude."

"You...you don't even know whats a branch is." he whispered, swallowing. He tasted blood, warm and metallic. It slipped down his throat, filling his whole mouth with a vile taste that he couldn't ignore.

Pickles glanced down at Toki's bleeding stomach. "Move your hand, dude. Lemme see."

"Whys? What good wills it do?"

The drummer ignored this and carefully moved the Norwegian's hand, which was sticky with blood, away from his abdomen. He was cut deeply, slashed and butchered by the wolf's claws. Blood was steadily flowing out of the exposed skin and tissues, turning the snow beneath him a horrible red. Toki saw it and grimaced, let a look of actual agony come across his once so happy face.

"That ams not good, is it?"

Pickles repeated the guitarist's words from before. "Could be better, could be worse."

Toki looked away, tried to hide his agony. " I—fuck, it really hurts bad."

Pickles let out a deep, worried sigh and took off his jacket. He laid it over Toki and whispered, "We gatta get out of this forest, dude."

"Keeps your stupid jacket." he said, weakly trying take it off of him. The drummer shook his head.

"No, you keep it for now."

"Wowee," he let out a groan of pain and muttered, "we really fucks up, huh?"

"Yeah, we really did."

"And alls we had to do was finds my stupids house, but we couldn't even do that right."

"Yeah." he chuckled and pressed a hand to Toki's forehead. "We have to get outta here." he said again. The guitarist swallowed and nodded.

"I knows, but I can't—my arm and my leg really hurts."

"Lemme see."

"Don'ts moves it!" he cried.

"I won't." he only had to take one look at Toki's leg to determine that the wolf pup's hard, shaking bite had broken it; the sleeve of the guitarist's jacket was torn and stained with blood, exposing a white shard of bone. "Crap."

"Whats?"

"Didn't you feel it brake?" gently, he laid the jacket back on top of Toki and smiled down at him. "You idiot, why didn't you call me?"

"You was busy beings scared."

"Sorry."

There was a slight pause before, "I felts a crack, but I didn't—my guitar. Ams I still goings to be able to play it?"

Pickles shook his head. "No, nat for a while."

"Oh." he let out a hiss of pain and sobbed, tears suddenly leaking from his eyes in slow, steady streams. "It hurts so bad, Pickle."

"I...I know. I'm gonna fix it, though." but what could he do? His own leg was still pulsing with the pain from the wolf bite and the snow was making him so cold...he wanted to sleep. Yes, that's what he needed. Just a nice, long sleep...

"I wants to die."

That snapped him back into reality. Pickles looked down at Toki, saw the agony in his face. "No, don't die."

"Then helps me, please. _Please _makes everything better again, like you always used to dos when we was backs home."

"Do you wanna go home, back to the Mordhaus?"

He said nothing, just continued to cry. "I'ms really cold."

"Me too, but look." Pickles dared to press a freezing had to Toki's cheek, tried to bring him comfort. "Don't close your eyes."

"Whys not?"

"Because I'm gonna make you better now." he summoned up all the courage and energy he had left and scooped Toki up into his trembling arms. "We've gotta get out of here."

Toki said nothing, just bit his lip as pain coursed thru his entire quaking frame. "That wolf almost killed you," he whispered, his voice faltering and weak. "I saws it. She almost bit your throat and..."

"Yeah."

"Why ams you still alive, then? You shoulds be dead."

"I'm alive-" he stumbled in the snow, but managed to catch himself and continue on. "-for you, 'cause I knew I'd have to save you."

"Oh. That ams nice. Thanks for thats, Pickle."

He said nothing. Each step he took was agonizing and his leg screamed in pain, begged him to stop, but he couldn't. Everything in him rejected each movement he made, but he couldn't quit, he _couldn't._ Each time the thought of surrender would enter his mind, he'd feel Toki's trembling, weeping body in his arms and force himself to continue. He barley noticed it as the guitarist wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him into a loose embrace.

"You ams so warm, Pickle..." and he closed his eyes. Very, very gradually he faded off to sleep with nothing more to think about than the warm, tender comfort of the drummer and the blood that was slowly and freely leaking from him and staining the snow.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 4, Part 2  
**_**Stitches & Plans**_

A sharp, pricking pain. It hurt, but didn't nearly compare to the pure, impossible anguish he'd felt before he'd passed out. Slowly Toki opened his eyes just as a doctor finished stitching up the last laceration on his stomach. He let out a hiss of pain as the thread was cut, and the man looked up and smiled, wiped his blood-covered hands off on his white shirt.

"_Ah, utmerket. Du er våken. God morgen til deg, Toki. Du sove godt?"  
__[Ah, excellent. You're awake. Good morning to you, Toki. You sleep well?]_

He wiped his sleepy eyes and mumbled groggily, _"Ja, ja, fine. Hvor er jeg? Hvor er Pickles?"  
__[Yes, Yes, fine. Where am I? Where is Pickles?]_

The doctor motioned over to the door and said, _"Utsiden."  
__[Outside.]_

"As long as he ams around." Toki muttered, lowering his head back onto the pillow and closing his eyes. _"Er han skadet?_"  
_[Is he hurt?]_

"_Nei."  
__[No.]_

That put his heart at ease enough to let the doctor finish dressing his wounds. Once that was done, the man stepped back and admired his work. _"Han har ikke vondt som dårlig, minst. Du var mye verre. Hvordan føler du deg?"  
__[He's not hurt that badly, at least. You were much worse off. How do you feel?]_

He grinned and said in plain English, "Likes shit."

The man arched a brow and repeated, "Shit?"

"_Ja, dritt."  
__[Yes, shit.]_

The doctor nodded and bid him farewell; he exited the room quietly, wiping off more blood on his stained shirt. Once he had left, Toki allowed himself to close his eyes and fall back into a doze, but before he could truly reach the point of sleep the door opened again. A soft, kind voice spoke to him, woke him from his doze and delirium. "Dude, you look like crap."

Toki smiled. "But you likes it, don't yous? 'Cause if this wouldn't have happened, you wouldn't be able to trys and talks me out of staying."

"Shut up." Pickles said, closing the door and taking a seat next to the bed. "And open your Gad damned eyes. I didn't haul you all the way back here to watch you sleep."

"Sorrys." he slowly opened his eyes and yawned, tried to stretch, but regretted it and gasped in pain. The drummer reached for his hand and held it loosely. Pickles was bandaged up as well, but not that badly. He held Toki's hand carefully, though, because it was wrapped in layers and layers of gaze, wounded from when the wolf had bitten it up.

"I hurt." the Norwegian stated bluntly.

"Yeah, I know."

"Dos you hurt?"

"Yep, but nat as much as you."

"I'm sorrys." he said again. "That you hads to carry me like that. I shoulds have been stronger, I should haves-"

"Nah, you did good. Great, actually." Pickles commented, letting his head rest against the palm of his hand. "I got you a good doctor? Did it hurt when he was-" he glanced down at Toki's exposed and stitched abdomen and grimaced.

"Nos, not really. It wasn't likes the pain before."

"Did you hurt bad?"

"Like nothing else I ever—nos, not bad."

Pickles grinned. "You suck at lying, dude. I mean, you're just really, really bad at it. It fuckin' amazes me, actually."

Toki arched a brow. "Whys does it amaze you?"

"That you're so perfect at doin' everything else, but nat lying."

He blushed and looked away. "You ams just beings like this 'cause I'ms alive, huh?"

"Sure," he agreed. "that's the reason." _And because I love you... _"And because I-" he cleared his throat, prepared himself to say it, but before he could Toki had begun speaking again.

"When can we gets to my moms and dad's house again? I can finds the way if it isn't dark, I swears!"

Pickles frowned. "Okay, okay, just chill. You're still really fragile, okay?"

He stifled a laugh and repeated, _"Fragile?"_

"Yeah, and I don't want to see you getting hurt again." the drummer insisted. "Never again."

"Fines, I can wait, but I really can't wait to shows you my house—it's really nice."

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 4, Part 3  
**_**Welcome Home**_

By nice, of course, Toki obviously meant horrible and run-down. About a week later, they both stood outside of the guitarist's childhood home, staring at the front door. Pickles sighed and elbowed the Norwegian. "Well, go ahead and knock already."

"O-Okays." he said almost nervously. "My moms may not really want to sees me, though...maybe we shoulds-"

"What's the worst she could do?"

"She thinks I killed my dad, Pickle." he said, looking down at his snow-covered boots. " 'Cause of, you knows, when I tooks him to his home before he died of cancer ands-"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember, you dropped him in that frozen lake, but that was an accident. I'm sure she understands, just go ahead and knock on the damn door already. I'm freezing!"

Toki reached forward, knocked on the door, and waited. In a moment his mother was standing in the doorway glaring down at her son. "H-Hey, moms." he said, smiling in a sweet sort of humble respect.

"_Toki? Hva gjør du her, gutt?"  
__[Toki? What are you doing here, boy?]_

He shrugged and said quietly, _"Mamma, jeg trenger et sted å bo. Jeg har sluttet i bandet og alle mine ting og pengene er her. Min manager har det fløyet her av seg selv. Kan jeg komme inni?"  
__[Mommy, I need a place to stay. I've left the band and all my stuff and money is not here. My manager has flown here by itself. Can I get inside?]_

She shook her head and cast her severe, cold gaze onto Pickles. _"Hvem er dette? En av de fryktelig mennene du ringe din venn?"  
__[Who's this? One of the horrible the men you call your friend?]_

Toki smiled over at Pickles and said warmly, _"Han er min beste venn, min bror. Han fløy med meg hele veien her fra-"  
__[He is my best friend, my brother. He flew with me all the way here from-]_

"_Toki, husker du hva jeg fortalt deg sist gang du kom hit, forventer å bli ønsket velkommen tilbake inn i huset mitt? Husker du at din far fortalte deg?"  
__[Toki, remember what I told you last time you got here, expecting to be welcomed back into my house? Remember that your father told you?]_ His mother interrupted. Pickles glanced over at the guitarist.

"What's she saying?"

He ignored him and said in English, "That he never wanted to sees me steps in hims house agains."

"Who never wanted to see you?"

His mother continued with, _"Så hvorfor er du her? Tror du at jeg skal ta deg tilbake etter alle smerte som du har satt dette husholdning gjennom? Nei. Komme vekk fra dette stedet, dette er ikke din hjem."  
__[Then why are you here? Do you think I'm going to take you back after all the pain that you have placed this household thru? No. Get away from this place, this is not your home.]_

"Buts I-"

"Gos!" she screeched in English. "Leave!"

"But I'm your _son! _You can'ts just not lets me into my house!"

"_Du var den som valgte å forlate!"  
__[You were the one who chose to leave!]_

"Because dads beat me all the times and you never dids anything abouts it! You never-"

But his mother wouldn't listen to him anymore; she went back inside and came back with their suitcases. "Yours?" she asked her son. Toki nodded and she dropped them at his feet and said cruelly, _"Adjø, Toki. Gå gjøre din egen måte i verden."  
__[Goodbye, Toki. Go make your own way in the world.]_

And the door was slammed in both men's faces. Pickles picked up his suitcase, trying to hold in his happiness—he wouldn't have to say goodbye, thank God!-but at the pitiful, depressed look on his love's face, he couldn't help but to tell him, "It's okay, dude. Like you said, it's all gonna be alright. We can go back to _Dethklok _and I'm sure they'll-"

"But I don't _wants _to go back! Don't you gets it?" he cried, throwing his suitcase across the snowy yard. As he did, his deddy bear fell out of his pocket and he peered down at it, seemingly calmed by the familiar sight of it. "I don't wants to go home...this ams my home, this-"

"Why can't your home be with me?" Pickles asked. He dropped his suitcase and went up to Toki, his green eyes shining with affection. "Just with me?"

"Whats the fucks ams you talking about?"

"Toki, you idiot, I love you."

He was slightly taken aback by this strange display of emotion, but he still managed to recover from his shock and say, "Okays, and I loves you tos, but-"

"No, I mean—fuck, why do you make this so hard?" the drummer took the Norwegian's hands in his own and gingerly messed with the bandage that was wrapped around the other man's right palm. "Does it hurt?"

"N-Nots so much anymore," he mumbled, his voice trembling as he met Pickles' gaze. "not as long as you ams holding it."

He smiled and said, his voice a sweet whisper, "I was so scared, y'know. I thought I'd never get to see those eyes again, your eyes staring at me. They're bright, like the stars, only better. They shine more, have more of a glow in them."

Toki blushed and turned away. "You ams stupid; my eyes ams not like the stars."

"No, they're a lot brighter." he touched the guitarist's cheek and said softly, "Rarer."

He shook his head, tried to pull away. "You don't know what you ams saying. You're drunk."

"I'll never drink again if you don't want me to."

"You don'ts know..." he let Pickles kiss his bandaged hand, let the drummer's breath warm his palm. "...peoples don't love me."

"I do." he said, looking up at him and caressing his aching hand. "More than anything else." and wrapped his arms around Toki's waist and pulled him close, hugged him tightly. He held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world, something that was so easily broken. Toki had never known that kind of affection before, never been treated like this. He felt his face burning, felt his stomach feeling with a warm sensation that crept all the way up to his chest, made him want to vomit out of nervousness and kiss Pickles all at the same time. Was he sick or just damaged from that attack of the wolf? No, he was just changed by...

...by what?

"I...maybes we should—if you wanted to kiss me, I'd probably let you." he said, trying not to smile at his own foolishness.

Pickles grinned and pressed his lips against Toki's cut and bruised cheek. "You would, huh? Maybe I should just stand here for a while, let you make the first move."

"You ams already all overs me, you might as well just gos ahead and kiss me already." the drummer nodded and leaned in, his lips parted, but before he could do it Toki stopped him and added, "And I wants a real kiss, nots a stupid kid one."

"A what?" he snickered.

"I wants yous to _really _kiss me."

Now Pickles was turning red, awkwardly smiling. "I...uh, okay, I guess."

"And I wants to feels you touching me."

"Okay." his hands didn't move, just continued to hold the guitarist to him. Toki shook his head and guided the drummer's hands to where he wanted them to be.

"Likes _this. _Gods, it ams like you've never kissed anything before, Pickle."

"Nothing that I've loved. I don't really know how to treat someone that I actually love." he said, giving the Norwegian a shy little smile. "I'm new at it."

"You really loves me?"

"Yep."

"You wants to marrys me?"

"Sure."

"Fucks me?"

"Absolutely."

"Right here?"

"Don't care, as long as it gets done."

Toki laughed and repeated, "Fuck me in the snows?"

Pickles nodded and snickered. "Whatever makes you happy; if you want me to make love to you here in the freezing cold, right in front of your stupid parent's house, then that's fine with me."

"Just shuts up and kiss me—we can starts with that, okay?"

"Fine with me." he said, leaning forward and molding his lips to Toki's. There was a certain wonderment in the way he moved his lips against the Norwegian's, a kind of odd glowing, warm and tender feeling that couldn't be contained. Neither of them knew what it was, but as the kiss intensified, they both learned one thing—this was how it should be, how it was always meant to have been. This is how it always _would_ be.

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

**Chapter 4, Part 4  
**_**Going Home Again**_

"I hates flying, you know." Toki commented as they took their seats aboard the plane that would take them back to the Mordhaus. Next to him Pickles sat, seeming to be as cool and collected as ever. He just shrugged and passed the guitarist his deddy bear.

"Hold him, he's cold."

And the Norwegian did; he took his beloved stuffed animal and hugged him tight. "And you can holds _me."_ the plane was a small one—tight, annoyingly cramped with other passengers—but somehow Toki still managed to situate himself in the drummer's lap. Pickles shifted under his weight and sighed.

"This is stupid. Get back in your seat, idiot."

"Not untils you says it."

"Say what?"

"You knows!" he kissed Pickles' cheek and whispered warmly, "I wants to fucks you right here, in the snow if you wants..."

"Fine, fine, just get in your own seat, dildo." once the guitarist had, Pickles grinned, took his hand, and announced shamefully loud, "Toki Wartooth, would you mind marryin' me?"

"Nopes!"

"Right here?"

"Uh-uh."

"Or makin' love?"

Around them other passengers stared at the two men with wide, curious eyes. Neither of them cared much, though. It was fun for them, a game. That's why Toki didn't hesitate to yell out, "Nos, right here, right?"

"Fuckin' right, hot and amazing sex." They both laughed and the drummer turned a little red at his words; he didn't let the prying gazes from others stop him from leaning over and kissing his love's cheek. "You're perfect, dude."

"I still don't want to gos home though. Maybes one day can we go back to Ireland?"

"Sure."

"Gets married there?"

He paused and said after a moment of crucial thought, "What about the Mordhaus? There won't be as many fans watchin' us and crap. We can do whatever the fuck we want there."

"I knows," he said gloomily, "but I don't wants to be around everyone else."

"You're embarrassed?" Pickles inquired, frowning. Toki hurriedly shook his head.

"Nos, of course not!"

"Then what is it?" when no answer came, the drummer leaned over and kissed him again, this time on the lips. "Like you said, let's just start with kissing, okay?"

He nodded in agreement. "Okays."

"Good, and by the way, I do love you."

"Love you toos."

"Cool." he said it casually, with a carefree smile on his face. Distractedly, he glanced down at Toki's deddy bear and told the guitarist, "Now go to sleep or somethin'. You always freak out when we're flying."

**: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::: :: : :::**

****A/N****

**Wow...amazingly short story, huh? Oh well, I guess it was good. That bit about the wolf was only included because honestly, it was just their luck, wasn't it? Yay for good, happy endings and all that grand shit. Reviews are appreciated and a new story will be posted soon [mainly Pickles/Toki, among other pairings]. Love everyone who has reviewed already. I love you for it. ^_^**

**Also, I'm using a new translator, so yeah...just thought it was worth mentioning in case there are some issues with that. Gah, I hate translating things, but I guess it's a nice detail for the story. Whatever, I did it, so there it is. Hope you like it.**

**Peace, Love, & Deddy Bear**

**[sure, why not? :P]**


End file.
